


new day dawning

by steepedinwords



Series: we move lightly [2]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Bisexual main character, F/F, Friendship, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-29 23:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12096075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steepedinwords/pseuds/steepedinwords
Summary: Jenny settles in and makes a friend.





	new day dawning

**Author's Note:**

> This took longer than it should have to get finished, sorry about that!  
> Some details are different from game canon, because I know small towns and in my experience when a new person moves in, everyone pitches in to welcome them instead of waiting to be given 67 jars of mayonnaise before being friendly.

Jenny’s bus trip ends with a bang. Jolting awake, she sits up from where her face has been mashed into the window glass. Despite her excitement, she’s apparently fallen asleep, worn out by the packing and goodbyes and figuring out of finances that have filled the last few days. Taking in the rosy evening light filling the empty bus, she realises they’ve come to a stop. The bus driver, a heavy-set blonde woman whose drawn-on eyebrows arch high over heavy purple eyeshadow to match her sweater, turns in her seat and yells back at Jenny. “Stardew Valley, kid. Your stop.”

Excitement surges. Jenny jumps up, grabbing her backpack. The driver has already gotten out by the time she makes it to the front of the bus and is pulling Jenny’s suitcase from the storage space underneath. She looks up as Jenny jumps down onto the asphalt of the highway, shaking her head. “You’re lucky we made it back before ol’ Annie here broke down again. She’s been cranky lately.” 

There’s smoke drifting lazily from under the hood. Jenny doesn’t know anything about vehicles, but she’s guessing that’s bad. She gives the woman a sympathetic wince, grabbing the luggage that’s thrust at her and turning to go with a quick thanks. 

Nearby, there’s a red-haired woman in sensible khakis and green sweater waiting. Robin, the local carpenter, Jenny learns. The friendly welcome lifts Jenny’s spirits even more. She looks around, marvelling at all the green, and skips a little as she hurries to catch up with Robin’s quick steps. Robin laughs, but Jenny’s exuberance is undimmed. She revels in the late sunlight, the scenery, the sound of birds. They walk down a rutted, shady dirt path outlined by fences.

“We’re so excited to have you here,” Robin tells Jenny, grinning at her distraction. “I knew your grandfather a little. If you’re anything like him, you’ll be a fantastic farmer.”

Jenny smiles tentatively. “I don’t have much experience, but I do love being outside.” 

“That’s a start!” Robin laughs. “Ah, here we are. Deep Hollow Farm.”

The wheeled suitcase bumps over the last rut as they come out into a clearing and Jenny stops, looking around. There’s Papa’s old cabin. It looks smaller, and far more dilapidated, that she remembers it. And there - she turns, and sees a mess of boulders, stumps, brush, and weeds. Nothing like the tidy vegetable patches Papa had kept. The tool shed beside the house has a serious sway to its roof and holes in the walls, and even the well has collapsed, fallen into a small heap of stones. 

Robin laughs at Jenny’s dismay, tells her there’s good farmland under all the mess. Jenny believes her, but the amount of work to be done is daunting. A squirrel scampers across the lot and up a pine tree, where it scolds Robin and Jenny shrilly.

“Better get used to sharing space with me, buddy,” Jenny tells him. “I’m sticking around.”

\-------------------------------

The mayor, Mr. Lewis, shakes Jenny’s hand enthusiastically and immediately launches into a story about Jenny’s Papa. Robin brings him back down, reminding him of the time. The shadows are lengthening into dusk and Jenny is beginning to yawn again. They show Jenny around the tiny cabin and then leave back along the path, Lewis still talking and apparently quite spry despite his age. Jenny sits down slowly on the sagging porch steps, staring around at the trees, at the sun sinking in a blaze of orange behind them.  
This is it. She’s burned her bridges. This piece of land and tumbledown farmhouse are what she has to work with. It’s terrifying, but she remembers the feel of good earth in her fingers, the thunk of tools in the dirt. She can do this.

Inside, the house is sparsely furnished. A narrow wooden bedstead with a ragged but clean patchwork quilt, a table and chair worn down to a well-loved smoothness, a stone fireplace, a cupboard, an old-fashioned sink with a pump. Someone’s been in getting things ready, so it’s all sparkling clean despite things being rickety. There’s a fresh pile of wood beside the fireplace, and Robin showed Jenny how to light the fire before they left, so now it’s crackling happily. Jenny has no idea how to cook on a wood fire, but there’s a cast iron pan on the hearth, and a box of groceries on the floor that Lewis said people had brought by. Nothing fancy - canned things with blue Joja labels, a loaf of bread, some peanut butter - but she finds herself warming to this group of people she’s never even met. Jenny finds oatmeal, pumps some water, and manages to make some slightly scorched porridge. She eats it straight out of the pan with lots of brown sugar, sitting on the porch steps again. It’s hard to tear herself away. Every few minutes brings a change in the sunset. Soon she’s sitting, joyfully alone, under a sky studded with brilliant stars. Jenny’s never seen real stars before, except in the movies.

She doesn’t want to go to bed, but the thought of her alarm, set for an early start, eventually propels her to the small cot. The straw in the mattress is a little dusty and a little scratchy, but Jenny is exhausted enough to fall asleep at once.

\----------------------------------------------

Breaking in farmland is even more work than Jenny had anticipated on her first sight of it. She spends her days for a few weeks hauling boulders to a pile behind the pond, chopping brush into small pieces to lug into another pile, exploring the boundaries of the place. There are several small ponds among the tall pines, new growth of cattails springing up in the soft earth at the edges. She finds the old orchard back, to her delight -- apple trees and pears just starting to bloom, though they haven’t been pruned in years and some of them look grey and dead beyond hope. She cuts down tall grass, clumsy at first with the scythe, and stacks it under the shelter of the porch roof. It takes hours just to dig out a patch of dirt for her first small garden, picking out the dandelion roots and grass carefully, but finally, triumphantly, she’s able to plant her first parsnip seeds.  
She’s broken once-pristine fingernails, cut and blistered her palms, sunburned her face, and worked harder than she ever has before. She’s crawled into bed exhausted and aching every night since she got here. Now, Jenny puts down her watering can, stretches sore muscles, and stands back to view her land, feeling like the farmer in the song.

It’s late afternoon. If she hurries, she can make it to the village by dinner time, spend some of her precious cash on a hot meal at the saloon to celebrate. The thought of eating something besides canned chili or peanut butter sandwiches has Jenny running up the steps into the house, skipping the broken one. She’s getting used to what Lewis called her “rustic” cabin. Two pulls on the pump handle gives her enough water to splash her dusty face and hands, if she’s quick enough. She’s still living out of her suitcase, although most of her clothes have, as always, a tendency to end up on the floor. The bathroom is nothing more than an outhouse out back, which can be scary when she has to use it after dark. No shower, and it takes a long time to boil enough water to wash her hair in the sink, but she’s managing so far. Jenny pulls on clean jeans and socks and a blue wool sweater, brushes her long curly hair back into a tidy ponytail. One of these days she might need to get it cut; it’s been getting in the way while she works, and untangling it after a day of cutting brush is a job in itself.

In Jenny’s first weeks, she’s mustered up the nerve to get over her shyness enough to introduce herself to people, one by one. Sometimes in the evening, after work, she rides the secondhand bike Robin had found for her over the rutted path to town. She’s met Pierre, the friendly general store owner, and written down the prices for seeds in a small notebook so she’s ready to plant her next crops. She likes walking her bike through the tidy cobbled streets, admiring the beautiful flowers in the square. She’s been to Gus’ saloon a couple of times, listening to him or cheerful, blue-haired Emily talk, or just sitting quietly at one of the computers in his tiny internet cafe area to catch up on social media or email her parents. Not many people have cell phones these days, even in the city, and there’s no land line at the farm, so email or a long-distance call from the pay phone outside Pierre’s is Jenny’s only way to reach her family. 

She’s pretty sure there are a few people she hasn’t met yet. It seems to be Lewis’ personal mission to help her with that. Every time he sees her in town, he finds another person she hasn’t met yet, enthusiastically introducing her. He’s even brought people with him on his early-morning visits to pick up anything she wants to sell, driving up in his rattling old truck, the only vehicle in town (“well, Robin’s boy Sebastian has a motorcycle, but I’m not going to ask him to haul stuff in to town!”). That was how she’d met Gus, and Sam, the boy who reminds her quite a lot of a golden retriever. Lewis’ friendliness is nice, and though Jenny has always had difficulty being comfortable with new people, she's grateful for his efforts. Being shy can be lonely.

Outside, the chorus of frogs from the backwoods is starting to cheerfully echo in the stillness. It’s deafening if she walks back there. Jenny pulls her bike from the shed and gets on, pushing off down the path.

In town (she’s already starting to think of Pelican Town as that, despite its tiny size), the street lamps have come on, solar lights glowing in the dark and insects buzzing around them, loud in the quiet night. Gran Evelyn has gone home for the night, leaving her beloved roses, and the square is deserted, but there’s a cheerful hubbub of voices emanating from Gus’. Leaning her bike against the wall, Jenny hopes there’s not too many people there tonight.

She pulls the heavy oak door open and light and noise spill out into the quiet street. No such luck, then. Jenny weighs her options, dread of strangers against her rumbling stomach, and then rubs sweaty palms against her jeans. She tips her chin up and steps inside.

Gus’ face brightens when he sees her, as she’s noticed it does for almost everyone he greets. He’s got that lovely kind of smile that lights up the whole room, and he makes some of the best food she’s ever smelled. 

“Here’s our new farmer!” he calls over the noise. “Jenny! What’ll it be tonight, then? Food? A beer? Or just the computer?”

People are staring. Jenny glances around, trying to remember names. Pam, the bus driver. Abigail. Sebastian? What’s-his-face, the guy she’s never seen without a leather apron and a surly expression. She feels herself turning red at all the eyes on her as she walks to the counter. “Um. I need something for supper. A hamburger?” Her voice is almost too quiet, but Gus grins again. 

“Definitely. Em, can you get a burger started?”

“Sure thing, boss!” Emily’s bright red dress swishes as she moves from pulling beers at the tap to the kitchen, tossing Jenny a blinding smile over her shoulder. Emily seems to be one of those people who’s a force of nature, all hurricane intensity.

Gus leans forward over the bar, wiping a glass with a towel. “I think you’ve met almost everyone here,” he tells her, “all except Leah.” He points, not very discreetly. There’s a tall girl with ginger hair in a long braid, standing by the fire. Green shirt, brown overalls that she somehow manages to make look fantastic, hiking boots. Brilliant blue eyes that meet Jenny’s own and then crinkle up in a half smile, the rest of her face staying serious. Gus waves her over.

“Leah, darlin’. This is Jenny. Y’know, the new farmer, up south of your place?”

Leah’s smile is slow, tentative as Jenny’s own, and genuine. Her hand is warm and gentle against Jenny’s bandages and blisters. There are calluses on her fingertips. “Hi.”

Gus beams at them before leaving them alone. Leah, serious look back in place, takes a seat on one of the tall bar stools. Jenny follows suit, feet twisting nervously around the rungs of the stool. The silence stretches out for a few minutes as they steal sidelong glances at each other. Leah takes a gulp from her pint of beer and breaks the pause. 

“So, what kind of farm are you planning?”

“Um, vegetables?” Jenny’s voice cracks and she clears her throat. “I mean. Vegetables. And fruit, there’s an orchard. And I might have some animals, eventually.”

Leah suddenly looks almost ill, and her face shutters. "Animals? For meat?"

“Leah here’s a vegetarian,” Gus says mildly from behind the bar, where he’s eavesdropping shamelessly. 

And she’s just ordered a burger. Jenny’s dismay must show on her face, because Leah waves her hand. “No, no, it’s fine. I don’t mind so much other people eating meat around me? Just… not a big fan of the killing.”

“I’m not either,” Jenny blurts. “I mean. I can’t see myself doing that at all. Really.”

Another silence, this one rather awkward, till Gus comes over with the burger on a plate, steaming french fries piled beside it. He tuts at Jenny’s surprise. “On the house, darlin’. Em makes the best fries, and I’m willing to bet that’s the first decent meal you’ve had in a while. Robin tells me you’re cooking over a fireplace, of all things.”

Leah looks over at Jenny as Gus turns to wait on Pam (who’s looked crankier every time Jenny has seen her since she arrived in town). She raises an eyebrow. “Cooking over a fire? There’s no stove?”

Jenny shrugs, feeling self-conscious. “Papa had one when I was small, I think, but it’s not there anymore. I’m getting used to it.”

“Well, um.” Leah seems to consider something and then makes up her mind. “If you get tired of that, you could come use my stove occasionally, like… once a week, make a bunch of meals or something?” She looks down, takes another drink, suddenly shy again. Warmth explodes in Jenny’s ribcage. People here are so _kind _.__

__“That’s so nice of you! But, um, I don’t have a fridge either. I couldn’t keep food.”_ _

__“Really roughing it, huh.”_ _

__“No power at all, actually,” Jenny confesses. “I’m not sure how my Papa managed.” She’s pretty sure Lewis was bringing him most of his meals, at the end. “Robin’s promised to get solar panels up for me soon, but in the meantime I’m taking baths in the sink and burning porridge over a fire. But I’m getting better at it.”_ _

__This is the most she’s said to anyone in a few days. It’s almost like she’s a normal, functioning adult who can socialise with people. Leah laughs, and Jenny is seized with a sudden desire to get her to do that again, because her freckled nose wrinkles up adorably. She’s really beautiful, and friendly, and kind, and Jenny’s always been attracted to kindness.  
The burger’s really good, but she refrains from saying so in front of Leah, just in case. Their conversation, once they warm up to each other a little more, keeps Jenny focused enough that she can ignore the other noise in the pub. She stays longer than she’d planned._ _

__They get up to leave at the same time, unintentional synchronicity. Gus nods goodnight, wiping down the counters sleepily. Everyone else seems to have gone home already. He looks from one to the other of them and grins. “Have a safe walk home, kids. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”_ _

__Outside, Jenny unlocks her bike and looks up to find Leah grinning at her, hands in her pockets. “What’s funny?”_ _

__“You locked up your bike,” Leah giggles. She’s doing the cute nose-wrinkling thing again. It’s very distracting. “No one around here locks stuff up.”_ _

__Jenny flushes. “It’s a habit.” A yawn catches her off guard. Leah’s leaning against the closed door of the pub, eyes closed and head tipped back. Her eyelashes are unfairly long._ _

__“You okay?”_ _

__“Just a _liiitle _tipsy,” Leah confesses, drawling out the word like honey. She pushes away from the door. “I’ll be fine.”___ _

____“You live along the river path there, right? Gus said I was south of you?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah. Just down from the ranch.”_ _ _ _

____Jenny nods. “That’s where the red silo is, right? I saw it the other day, I know where that is. Want company on the way home?”_ _ _ _

____“Okay!” Leah’s shyness has noticeably decreased over the evening, along with her pint. They turn down the path, away from the lights of town. Jenny turns on the lamp on her bike and walks beside it, following the pale beam down the path, Leah a few steps to her side. She can’t see the river, but she can hear it rushing by, noisy in the dark. An owl hoots.  
It’s a quiet walk. Leah’s concentrating on not stumbling over tree roots, and Jenny is tongue-tied again, her conversational mood gone entirely. But it’s pleasant. Wind rustles the tall grass, cool against her skin, and there are tiny chirps and rustles in the grass. Jenny hasn’t been out this late at night yet, and it’s less frightening than she would have thought._ _ _ _

____Leah’s cabin, when the lamplight flashes across it, is small, and green, with brown shutters that look black in the dim light. Leah turns to Jenny and holds out her hand._ _ _ _

____“Thanks for walking me home. It was nice to meet you.” She smiles, and points ahead to where the path turns by a fence. “That’s your way home. Have a safe walk!”_ _ _ _

____Jenny waves goodnight and turns away, smiling. She nearly walks into the fence on the other side, and there’s a startled, sleepy noise from the other side of it. Just a cow. Up ahead is the gap in the trees leading to the farm. _Her _farm.___ _ _ _

______She sighs happily. Now if only she can manage not to fall in a frog pond on the way to the house, this will have been a perfect evening._ _ _ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> I thought it would be interesting to have some minor changes from our world, since Stardew Valley doesn't appear to be located on Earth. Since they're at war with the Gotoro Empire, it made sense for there to be some effects of that. Also, green energy is something I'm pretty excited about so yes, the town is run mainly on solar energy.  
> In case you like to picture things properly, Deep Hollow Farm is the Forest Farm layout. Extra ponds and lots of trees and foraging.


End file.
